Some power
by passport
Summary: Peter has acquired a strange new power. Unrequited Petrellicest love.
1. Chapter 1

"Dad."

Nathan was still unused to hearing that syllable in Claire's voice, and he looked up from his desk uncomprehendingly before turning to find his daughter at his study door. "Hey, Claire."

She didn't sit down on the sofa that lined the wall, but walked slowly up to him, arms crossed, looking at the floor.

He swivelled his chair around and leaned back, dropping his pen onto his desk.

The olive eyes under the heavy eyebrows found her own green ones, and Nathan smiled slightly, waiting.

"There's something different about Peter."

One of Nathan's eyebrows crept up a few millimetres.

"Just...maybe it's just me," Claire muttered to herself. And then, louder, "Just - can you talk to him?"

* * *

There was a confident rap on the door, done with the brisk authority only his brother possessed around him these days. Then, without waiting for an invitation, Nathan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Jesus, Nathan, what if I'd been doing something private?"

"Then hopefully," Nathan said, moving to sit on the bed beside Peter, "You would have learned to lock the door."

Peter flushed. The memory from his teenage years refused to be forgotten.

* * *

_1995 - Peter is sixteen, Nathan is twenty-four_

Peter sat on the bed, staring sourly at his brother's engagement photo. So he was going to marry the woman in the picture. Heidi. It wasn't that Peter didn't like Heidi; it was more he didn't like Nathan being married.

It was probably normal for siblings to feel that way, Peter thought. But Oh God. His Nathan.

That felt right. _His_ Nathan.

He looked down at the photo again, and inappropiately the thought of them being _married_ led to the two of them sleeping together...and before he knew why Peter's teenage brain was wondering what his brother was like in bed. And Peter found himself doing _it_, caught up in the moment of fantasy. Knew it was wrong his brother turned him on; knew it was wrong it was his brother fucking him in his brain; but Goddammit, who gave?

And then as he was coming the door opened; it was so cliched; Peter managed to lock the door everyday and not today? But it was too late. Nathan stuck his head in, called, "Pete?" and met the sight before him.

"Christ, Peter," he said, his eyes staying on Peter's stricken face, and then he'd shut the door and Peter heard his footsteps fading down the hallway.

Peter never knew if his brother had heard the _Nathan_ he'd no doubt been moaning in the moment of release. How could he not have? But Nathan had never commented, never even hinted at the topic.

When Peter entered the dining room later that night, to meet his brother for the first time since the _encounter_, hands scrubbed fairly raw with soap, Nathan gave him a perfectly normal smile and "Pete."

And that was also the day Peter fell - in love? in lust? - for his brother. It had happened so suddenly; the photo incident, and then the dinner, where Peter found himself following Nathan with his eyes, feeling ridiculous swoops in his stomach akin to the flutters he'd got in junior high whenever he saw his first crush.

He noticed that night how Nathan's lashes were dark and longer than Rachel's, how they made his olive eyes look smoky, the lazy manner they swept low, shadowing crescents onto his face.


	2. Chapter 2

_He noticed that night how Nathan's lashes were dark and longer than Rachel's, how they made his olive eyes look smoky, the lazy manner they swept low, shadowing crescents onto his face._

* * *

Nathan's face was impassive as the memory flashed through Peter's mind. Sometimes Peter wondered if maybe it hadn't happened at all.

He crawled to sit up beside his brother, and Nathan reached forward and messed up his hair. "You alright, Pete?"

"Yeah," he said, and he looked at those eyelashes now, so close - if he reached out he could touch them.

But he didn't, because then he wouldn't be _alright_.

His brother's hands were warm on his shoulders again, and then his lips were briefly on Peter's temple. He drew back too soon; but then it could never be long enough for Peter to be in Nathan's embrace. He couldn't help clinging a little as the older Petrelli drew back.

Just a little.

"So." Nathan stood up, and suddenly Peter's personal bubble felt cold and empty. "Claire thinks there's something wrong with you."

Peter raised an eyebrow as he pushed his hair back. "Is that what she said?"

"Not word for word, but you get the gist."

"Well, I'm fine."

Nathan did a familiar Nathan-gesture, pursing his lips slightly as he lowered his head, raising his eyebrows slightly. _Are you sure_ was the overall message.

Peter continued to look at him almost defiantly (although to be honest he was being drawn into the way Nathan's eyelashes looked at this angle), which probably meant _Yes._

* * *

No, Peter wasn't fine. He hadn't been the same since he had left his latest, very brief girlfriend. It could almost be called a one-week stand, because there hadn't been much in the relationship except - well. Except desire, really.

It had been a sudden attraction. She was talkative and flashy, not at all drawing the interest of Peter, though several other men at Nathan's latest 'evening' had been drawn to her.

_Last month - Peter is 28, Nathan is 36_

_"Hey, you're Peter, aren't you."_

_She came up from behind him to speak almost directly into his ear, even after he had removed himself politely from her company (to skulk near the drinks table and spy on Nathan, while hoping he would come over to talk)._

_"Yes," He said, hoping the monosyllabic answer would put her off._

_"As in Nathan Petrelli's brother?"_

_"Yeah," Peter said. He didn't feel annoyed when referred to as Nathan's brother; he felt proud._

_"Isn't your brother a handsome man," she said._

_"...Yes," Peter replied, and thought, _what an understatement.

_"But he's married," she said, "But then again you're pretty cute yourself...and you're not attached, are you?"_

_He turned to face her, finally, wondering to himself what on earth this woman was doing here. She smiled seductively at him. _

_And then the next second, he was absolutely lusting after her._

After Peter had finally managed to leave her, he felt absolutely bewildered that he had wanted her so badly. He had not liked her at all. And yet -

And then after that relationship there were periods of time when Peter would feel the strangest coiling, and then a settling of emotion like what he felt when he used the painting-the-future power, when his eyes would film over with white.

It was probably a new power, because it felt different, but so far he hadn't done anything with it. It hadn't done anything, rather; the coils of energy came randomly, and he couldn't grasp it to use, couldn't control it.

He hoped it wasn't something that could be fatal.

* * *

Earlier that day, before Claire spoke to Nathan, she had gone to visit her uncle who had been depressed in his room for a few days since leaving his last girlfriend. Which was odd, because he wasn't even the one who had been dumped.

"Hey, Claire," Peter said, looking up from where he was reading on his bed.

"Hey." She smiled at him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said, and he'd moved to make room for her to sit beside him. Which she did, and then she met his eyes again, and began to speak, but the words never left her mouth.

_There was a strange twinge in the heels of his feet; a string of heat travelled up his legs to his spine, circling somewhere in his neck. It was the oddest sensation; again, that feeling like he was using a power_. _He just didn't know what power._

Claire's eyes seemed to go out of focus for a while, and then when she looked directly at her uncle she felt an unshakable longing. She wanted to lean forward and kiss him, touch him, _wanted him_, and the feeling was so abrupt and unfamiliar -

_The strings snapped and the coils faded from the area near the back of his neck, even as Peter stared at Claire_.

"Oh," Claire said, and her voice shook slightly.

"Cl-" he stopped, and watched her leave the room swiftly, before frowning down at himself. What power could that possibly be? What had he just done?

* * *

The pieces finally fit together in Peter's head, though he had the sneaking feeling he'd worked it out much earlier but simply hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. Somehow this power was to make people - want you. _Want, desire, lust after_. He'd probably picked it up from his girlfriend - so that was why he had so suddenly just fallen for her.

He cringed at the thought that he had unwittingly used it on Claire, his niece, Nathan's daughter. Wanting Nathan was one thing; it was wrong and bad and _terrible_ but Claire, poor innocent Claire - she couldn't know how fucked up he was.

Nathan.

Oh, God, Nathan. Peter shut his eyes and exhaled, trying to calm himself. And reason with himself - he wouldn't use the power. It was immoral and - just - sometimes there was no word that encompassed Peter's desperate need for his brother better than _wrong_.


	3. Chapter 3

But the _hunger_. It was all-consuming, this new flame licking at his insides. He felt he could not be in the same room with Nathan for fear he would just _jump_ him, pin him to the wall and -

"Pete?" And it was Nathan speaking to him now, touching his shoulder, leaning closer in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He looked at his older brother in panic. The yearning desire was clawing up his insides, up his throat, choking him. A tug of war was happening in his head - the want with reason, the lust with love. Somehow, through this mess, Peter managed to say: "No."

"What's wrong?" Nathan sat down, arm secure around his shoulders. "Come on, Pete, you can tell me. Are you still depressed from leaving your last girlfriend? Is that it?"

Peter knew what to do now. The battle raged on in his mind but he knew: he had to tell Nathan, had to communicate to him somehow this wrongness that he felt. Anything before this hunger made him release his power onto his brother.

"I want you."

Nathan tried to look him in the eyes, but he avoided the gaze. "Peter," he said, softly. "You got me."

It had never hurt so much as in that instant of so much that could be. If only Nathan had meant it in the way Peter would die for.

"God, Nathan," he breathed, "I - I can't."

The older Petrelli looked puzzled for a second or two, before the coiling began to wind up in Peter, springing from the soles of his feet up his spine, streaks of heat. It was too late. Peter had lost it.

Nathan's expression changed slowly. His arm dropped from Peter; a darkness was threatening the hue of his eyes. He licked his lips, quickly, a flick of his tongue, gaze uncertain and transitory on Peter. The energy in Peter snapped, sparked again and grew stronger.

And the lust wound itself about Nathan, ribbons of want directed toward the man before him: Peter, his baby brother. His irises darkened, overpowering his innate self, and Peter's power took hold.

Five seconds of utter silence and lack of motion passed, each marked by the _tock_ of the clock on the wall. Nathan's alpha-male instincts kicked in; he wanted Peter, and he would have him. He grabbed Peter's shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed. Peter's anticipation and desire were forcing his guilt and conscience into submission. Nathan was going to take him. He was going to do it.

"D-Dad?"

Claire stood at the door, seeming frightened at the scene before her, Nathan leaning over Peter, pressing him to the sheets.

The strings flared once, white-hot, and then frayed and succumbed to gravity. Slowly, the humanity filtered back into Nathan's eyes. He let go of Peter, stood up, backed away.

"Nathan," Peter said, weakly, sitting up.

* * *

"I don't know what happened," Nathan said, finally.

"I do," Claire said, and her father turned to stare at her.

"What?"

"I mean I don't," she said, "but - I know how you - felt. What you felt. What - like you -"

She struggled, growing hot with embarrassment at having to voice this, to describe it.

"Want," Nathan said, quietly, and she nodded, still staring at the floor. "You can...you should go, Claire."

She left without another look at Peter, as though afraid of what that would mean.

Nathan turned to face his brother. "Peter...what the fuck was that?"

* * *

Peter wondered if, at the end of his long, stammered admission, he had accidentally frozen time. Nathan and Claire stared at him, fixed in their places. And it was Nathan again who broke the silence.

"When you said you wanted me..."

Peter hung his head.

"Peter, I thought it would pass..."

So Nathan had heard Peter that night so many years ago, lost and moaning his name in the gold heat of release. Had caught all those gazes of admiration and longing.

"Pete," Nathan said, softly, and Peter looked up. His brother walked up to him and raised him to his feet, hands on his arms.


End file.
